Jetstream
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: Wincest AU! What do you get when you throw together exhaustion, irritable passengers and an airport? Preslash, of course! Rated T for language.


A/N Wincest AU! It's been a while since I've done this, but hey...Like riding a bike, right?

* * *

"First call for flight 3749. Passengers in sections 1 and 2 please board now. Please be advised that all beverages must be disposed of or emptied before you board the plane."

Sam Winchester sighed as he placed the microphone back onto the shelf, rubbing his eyes as the bustle of passengers echoed around him. People were shouting at family members and friends, pushing and shoving like children to get to the front.

He really should have had three shots in that espresso instead of one, but that was hours ago, and sometimes he forgot how much his job wore him down. The flimsy chair the airline provided for the desk was probably a death trap in another life, which was why Sam was standing. Even so, his elbows on the table were pretty much the only thing keeping him awake.

The passengers across the terminal were beginning to board as Sam checked the computer in front of him, peppy woman announcing the boarding section with a smile. He couldn't help but glare at her, on the last legs of his eight hour shift from hell. How the fuck was she so happy? He really couldn't get it. No wonder that flight attendant went crazy.

The computer blinked red in front of him and he frowned. The flight to Atlanta was supposed to be boarding, but the line had stalled. Usually, he waited until they signaled to board the next shift, but this was a call light. Picking up the receiver, he phoned the flight attendant desk inside.

"This is Andrea." A woman's voice said. Sam smiled, recognizing the tone.

"Hey Andrea, it's Sam." He said politely. "Why aren't we boarding?"

Sam had to hide a grin as a loud sigh echoed across the line. Andrea was one of the only people he talked to on the job. Seeing as he only saw her in between flights, that probably wasn't healthy, but she wasn't crazily energetic all the time and he appreciated that.

"I really hate people sometimes." She groaned. "There's some fight about seats. Some family bought the seats online, but a guy has the same tickets, this can't be happening, I'm suing your airline, blah blah blah. Oh, and the Dad's an asshole."

Sam snickered. "Are you sure they can't hear you?" He asked, only slightly worried. Their manager would give her hell if a passenger heard her.

Sam curled the phone cord around his hand while keeping a close eye out on the other passengers and employees.

"Oh hell no. They're doing the whole shouting manly-man thing. You wanna hear?"

Before Sam could respond, the receiver crackled as she moved it closer to the fight. Sam winced as loud shouts sounded on the line, along with the required screaming baby and irritable passengers.

Those poor people.

"Yeah, not fun." Andrea said lightly as she got back on the line. "We're gonna have to run musical chairs."

It was Sam's turn to groan, covering his eyes with his hand as he resisted the urge to repeatedly slam his face on the desk in front of him. He hated musical chairs. Cheap advertising with a side of hell no. There wasn't a sane person in the world who'd give up their seat, not on this kind of flight.

"Yeah, I know." Andrea said. "But I did it last week, and it's your turn to work the desk. Besides, you're great with people!" She said, smile evident in her voice.

"Fuck you." He said, knowing Andrea was enjoying this far too much.

"Better start soon." Was all he got before the phone clicked off. Steeling himself, he glanced down at the script in front of him, sighing internally.

Grabbing the microphone, he forced a smile he didn't feel.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, if I could get your attention for a quick minute. I've got a great deal for you..."

* * *

Dean turned on his phone as the announcement drew groans from his fellow passengers, nervous as text messages began to pour through. Lisa went from worried but calm to jealous and accusing in about six messages, finally threatening him with unspeakable things should he not reply.

That had been three hours ago.

The employee at the front of the terminal was still talking, voice tired but pleasant. Dark hair curled around his face, brushed away in an unconscious gesture as he spoke into the microphone.

"Along with your rescheduled ticket, those willing to volunteer will also receive a pair of complimentary tickets from WessonAirlines, valid for a future trip and free of charge. At this moment, we still need four people who are willing to reschedule their travel plans to come forward. Now is the time."

Dean shook his head at the poor man, seeing the dark circles under his eyes. The guy looked like he'd been awake since yesterday, barely upright as he spoke cheerily into the microphone. He could tell the man was nowhere close to being happy about it, but he had to admire he was doing his job well. He glanced down as his phone buzzed again.

_When are you coming home? You better not be with someone. I told you this trip was a mistake!_

Lisa's newest text read as he looked down. Groaning, he grabbed his stuff. He was fucking done with her. If she wanted him home so quickly, he was gonna make it hard for the bitch.

Walking up to the counter and placing a smile on his face, he frowned as a man barreled past him, cutting him off. Dean stared angrily at the man's back, standing behind him as he waited.

"I demand to know why my son can't fly with us!" The man yelled at the employee, whose name tag read _Sam _in dark gold.

Sam smiled politely, visibly straightening. "I'm sorry sir, can I have your last name?"

The man frowned, spitting out the last name with venom. The employee's fingers flew across the computer, hazel eyes staring intently into the screen.

"You're the Dennis family, am I correct?" Sam asked, looking up (more like down) at the man.

"Yeah."

Sam reached out, spinning the computer's monitor's towards the man. He pointed at the screen with a long finger.

"You bought what we call a stand-by ticket, meaning if someone drops, their seat it automatically transferred to you. However, your seat was never dropped, so he is unable to board with you."

"This is outrageous. My family needs to travel together!" The man said, placing a hand on the counter.

Sam nodded, eyes flashing. "And I understand that, sir. I can see if there are any nearby flights that have four tickets to drop, if that would help, but I cannot help you until there are dropped seats. Please sit down."

The man made an annoyed sound, but didn't move. The employee began typing quickly, rubbing a hand across his eyes before breaking into a small smile.

"Hey?" Dean asked, moving forward until he was looking into the man's eyes. Sam looked up, polite smile instantly covering up the stress on his face.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"I'd like to volunteer my seat." Dean said, smiling back as the man broke into a real smile with _dimples_, goddamn. "Or as tribute or whatever." He joked, enjoying the smile that widened on Sam's face.

Sam stared at him for a second and nodded, gratitude plain in his eyes. "Your next flight will be here in about an hour, sir." He said, typing on the computer. "Can I please have your last name?"

The man from before pushed in front of Dean again before he could answer, glaring at Sam. "I was here first. You need to deal with me first!"

"I'm sorry, sir, but as of now, there are no open-"

The man slammed both of fists down on the table, causing Sam to jump back. Dean saw red, grabbing the guy by the shoulder and hauling him back.

"Listen here, you asshole." He growled at him, temper far past blown. "You're making your own problem worse here. I am one of the few people who is willing to get off this flight so your dumbass self who couldn't even buy tickets can fly. This man is trying to help, and you're being a dick. He's going to get me rescheduled so you can fly, but if he can't do that because of you, I'm not going to leave this flight. If you want to travel with your family, I suggest you get the hell out of my way and let this man do his job. And let me tell you, I wouldn't let you fly on this airline if I owned it."

The man's eyes bugged out as he backed up, walking back to where his family was sitting. Sam was staring at him wide-eyed, glancing at the when Dean turned around with a smile.

"So, how's about that flight?" He asked with a smile, trying to project all of the friendliness he could muster at the young man.

Sam smiled up at him after a second, typing on his computer swiftly. "Technically, I'm suppose to instruct you to allow other employees to deal with the customers." He paused. "That said, I will book you on the next flight in a first class aisle seat free of charge. Please accept these meal vouchers as well." He said, pushing papers towards him. "I need your ID, please."

Dean raised an eyebrow but opened his wallet with a wink

* * *

"Alright, let me just enter you into the flight." Sam said, holding the ID up. "Mr..." He paused, looking at the name on the ID in surprise. "Mr. Wesson?" He asked, shock crashing through him.

Dean Wesson winked at him again, waiting patiently for Sam to continue typing. Nervous that he may or may not have the head of the company in front of him, he booked the man quickly.

"Here you are, Mr. Wesson." Sam said, pushing the new boarding pass across the desk. "Your new flight leaves in an hour form terminal B. Thank you for...er..._volunteering._" He said with a nervous smile. Dean smiled back.

"Call me Dean." He said, handing him something papery. Sam shook his head, trying to hand it back. "Sir, I can't accept-"

Dean gathered his stuff together, placing the paper in his hand again. Sam looked down to see a phone number written on it.

"I insist." He said with a smile before walking off, whistling as his luggage rolled down the floor. Sam watched him go in a state of confusion, adrenaling finally catching up to him.

Maybe the job wasn't that bad after all.

* * *

A/N I actually finished something! Review?


End file.
